Just One Kiss. Сьюзен Мэллери
Читать онлайн книгу.
maybe the garden, but nothing else. Off to the side, he could see a wheelchair ramp, but it led to the back door rather than the front. For Ava, he thought.
As he walked up the stairs, he braced for what he might find. Patience’s mother had always welcomed him into their home. She’d been kind and motherly. As a kid who’d grown up surrounded by a lot of fear, he’d soaked up the affection she’d offered. She provided an emotional haven and he’d missed her nearly as much as he’d missed Patience when he’d had to leave.
He didn’t know a lot about her disease, but he knew it was relentless and cruel. He told himself he’d seen worse. That his job was not to react. Then he rang the bell.
Lillie opened it seconds later and smiled at him. “Hi,” she said cheerfully. “I’m glad you’re here. I’m starving and the garlic bread smells so good.” She stepped back to allow him entry, then turned to yell, “Mom, Mr. Garrett is here.”
Patience walked into the living room. “Indoor voice, remember?” She glanced at him. “Hi.”
“Hi, yourself. Thanks for the invitation to dinner.”
She looked good. Her hair was long and sleek with the kind of shine that invited hands to touch. She wore jeans and a T-shirt with a girl in a crown on the front. “Queen of Everything” was written underneath. She was curvy enough to keep things intriguing, and when she smiled, he felt as if he’d been kicked in the gut. Fourteen-year-old Patience had made his voice crack. Grown-up Patience was physically beautiful, emotionally sweet and intellectually challenging. A lethal combination.
He’d always tried not to be like his father. When in doubt he thought about what Bart would do and did the opposite. Now he realized that the decent thing was to walk away. Only he didn’t want to.
“You’re welcome,” she said. “It’ll be fun to catch up.”
He passed her the bottle of wine he’d brought. A nice California Cabernet the store owner had promised would go with pasta. Their fingers brushed and he felt a jolt of attraction. Swearing silently, he took a deliberate step back. No way. Not with Patience. He refused to screw up one of the few decent memories he had in his life. She was his friend, nothing more.
“There you are. All grown up.”
He shifted toward the voice and saw Ava walk into the room.
She looked the same, he thought, accepting the relief as both truth and a statement that he really had to work on his character. But it was a flaw he was willing to accept. He needed Ava to be okay, not just for herself, but for him, as well. To keep his connection to the past.
She was a couple of inches shorter than Patience, with the same brown hair. Hers was in tight curls that brushed her shoulders. She had big brown eyes and an easy smile. When she held out her arms, he moved into them instinctively.
She hugged him close. He’d forgotten what it was like to be hugged by Ava. To be engulfed in a circle of acceptance and affection. She held on as if she would never let go, as if she would always be there. She hugged like a mom who genuinely loved all kids and wanted you to know. When he was a kid, Ava had been something of a revelation. The marshals had done their best to give him a stable home, but they’d been employees on the clock. Ava had been his best friend’s mom. She’d made him cookies and talked to him about going to college. Just as if he was a regular kid.
“I was nervous about seeing you,” he admitted, speaking softly so only she could hear.
She squeezed tighter, then released him. “I have good days and bad days.” She tilted her head.
He followed her gaze and saw the wheelchair folded up in the corner of what was clearly her home office.
“This is a very good day,” she told him, still holding his gaze. “We were so worried about you.”
“I know. I’m sorry. I would have told you if I could have.”
“You came back. That’s what matters.” She turned to her granddaughter. “You’re hungry, aren’t you?”
Lillie danced in place. “Yes. Very. I’m starving.”
Ava held her hand out to the girl. “Then let’s get the salads on the table. Patience, why don’t you have Justice open that bottle of wine he brought?”
Patience waited until they’d walked into the kitchen to lean close. “She’s still running the world, as you can see.”
“She’s great and looks terrific. With her disease...” He wasn’t sure what he wanted to ask.
Patience nodded and led him to a hutch in the formal dining room. She pulled open a drawer and removed a wine opener.
“She’s had a couple of bad episodes, but then she went into remission. It came back, but it’s not aggressive right now. Most days she can’t do stairs. Technically she probably could, but it takes so much out of her. The issues have mostly been in her legs, which means she can still work with no problem.”
Ava was a software designer. She’d started back when computers were novelties. Her job allowed her to work from home—a plus considering that her husband had walked out when she’d been diagnosed. When Patience had told him that, he’d realized that a father didn’t have to pull a gun or use his fists to hurt his family. Pain came in all forms.
He went to work on the wine bottle. Patience collected glasses from the hutch.
“She’s the bravest person I know,” she continued. “She’s always so cheerful and caring. I would want to scream at the unfairness of it all, but she never does.” She smiled. “I want to be like my mom when I grow up.”
“She inspires me, too,” he admitted. “When I was in a tough spot, I would think about Ava and remind myself I had it easy.”
Patience blinked several times, as if fighting emotion. “You’re very slick, Mr. Garrett. You could have flattered me with meaningless compliments, but instead you slip right past my defenses by saying that about my mother.”
“I meant it,” he said, looking into her eyes and inhaling the scent of something clean with a hint of flowers. Not perfume, he thought, remembering. Essence of Patience. “I’m not slick. I’m telling the truth. I’ve seen what it takes to be brave, and your mom has it.” He knew the danger of getting close, but couldn’t help reaching out and lightly touching her cheek. “It’s me, Patience. I know it’s been a long time, but no defenses required.”
Although as soon as he said the words, he realized he should have kept his mouth shut. Patience was right to be wary of him.
Something clattered to the floor in the kitchen. Patience turned toward the sound. Justice used the distraction to pick up the wine, thereby putting distance between them.
Fifteen minutes later they were all seated at the table. Lillie had sniffed her mother’s glass of wine and wrinkled her nose, declaring the smell “icky.” The lasagna was sitting on the counter, ready to be served, and they had their salads in front of them.
Patience raised her glass. “Welcome home, Justice,” she said.
“Thank you.”
They all took sips of their drinks. Lillie put her milk down and turned to her grandmother.
“Mr. Garrett is a bodyguard.” She wrinkled her nose. “Like on TV, right?”
Patience had called him Mr. Garrett to make a point. Lillie was doing it because of how she was raised. “If it’s okay with your mom, you can call me Justice.”
Lillie beamed. “Is it, Mom?”
“Sure.”
Lillie sat a little straighter and cleared her throat. “Justice is a bodyguard, Grandma.”
“I heard.” Ava glanced at him. “That sounds dangerous. Is it?”
“Sometimes. Mostly